


Tainted Ink

by ManyMusesOneMind



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Bendy Worship (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Childhood Trauma, Childishness, Everyone Needs A Hug, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Ink Demon(s) (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Ink Monster Bendy (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Interspecies Relationship(s), Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Platonic Life Partners, Platonic Relationships, Reader-Insert, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManyMusesOneMind/pseuds/ManyMusesOneMind
Summary: Years ago you lost the only family you ever knew, then the world tainted you, and you decided living on in their memory was better than subjecting them to the ruin you had become. But sometimes, the past doesn't stay in the past, and when a letter reaches you at a weak moment you find yourself going back on your own word. But when you return to the studio of your childhood you quickly learn that your personal demons are the least threat to your family and that only by facing the past can you ever hope to secure their future.
Relationships: Alice Angel (Bendy and the Ink Machine) & Reader, Bendy (Bendy and the Ink Machine)/Reader, Boris (Bendy and the Ink Machine)/Reader, Henry Stein & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 11





	1. Tainted

**Author's Note:**

> I was disturbed at the lack of bendy getting to be a parent on Ao3 so i'm fixing it, and even though this will probably suck and be terrible, imma do it anyways!

Ink.

After all these years you could still smell it, not the kind from printers or books though you supposed they were quite similar, but when you thought of ink you thought giant pots. You heard the scribbling of fine pointed fancy art pens on paper, the hum of a projection wheel, and  
papa. Your father was always at the center of your memories of Ink, which you suppose made sense, he ran the animation studio after all!

You had so many fond memories of those days, running through the seemingly neverending corridors of your paradise, your father could never keep track of you. At first, you were surprised he brought you there at all, because inevitably he would lose track of you as you crammed yourself into vents and hidey holes no adult could ever hope to find you in. But as you grew you realized that was the whole plan because if he ‘lost’ you even for a weekend that was three days he could forget about the child he never asked for and refocus on those ambitions he always talked about.

To any other child such neglect would be heartbreaking, and for awhile it was, but then one day your father walked in the steps of Frankenstein and began to create sentient life from the ink. Everyone else ranged from being annoyed to downright terrified of the work and chaos this created but for you it was a new beginning.

But the thing about beginnings is that they necessitate an ending, and eventually, the ending came to tear you away from all those family and friends that had become so dear to you. Once the studio was closed you were stuck with your father, your  
father, as he liked to insistently call himself. But without the studio he quickly became unable to support even himself let alone the child he had never cared to have. When foster care came knocking he gave you up without hesitation and you wept once more because over time you were taken far away from the real family you cherished so much.

Thirty years since you were born, you never forgot the family that mattered so much to you, even as you’ve been passed from family to family, there has only ever been one Papa and one Mama. At first, even after the studio closed down, you were able to sneak off to see them, but the psychologists who never understood recommended you be taken farther away to try and ‘heal from past traumas’. You never understood what they meant, they talked in big and complicated words that soared over your head, but the farther you were taken from the studio the worse life seemed to get for you.

You’ve wound up with families that seemed even worse than your father, you know what it’s like to have your life endangered, even though the day came when you eventually escaped it all by that point you felt too tainted to ever return. How could you return home when you were no longer the tiny little girl that would laugh and squeal and dash about the place. If you couldn’t even stand yourself these days surely the cartoon characters brought to life would similarly reject you.

So even when the time finally came, when you had a chance to drop everything and return home, you decided not to. If your family still missed you like you missed them then better they miss you for the sprightly young girl you once were than the broken shell of your former self you had emerged from. 

So instead of going back you collected, anything you could get your hands on really, and in a way this drew you just enough back into your past that you were able to feel fulfilled. Henry Stein, one of the animators at your fathers studio, ended up finding you when you contacted him about some old memorabilia he still had which he was more than happy to pawn off. In the end he wound up becoming your roommate, you’re sure because you must look like a living mess, and you’ve been together ever since. He tolerates your obsessive collecting of Bendy merchandise and you stay up late at night drinking with him as he rants about how he wasted his youth on animation….while you pretend not to know he still does the stuff freelance.

But more importantly than anything is how he becomes a steadying presence in your life, he takes care of you, like a Dad is supposed to you imagine. That means in your life it’s taken not one but three father figures before you finally found a dad who would stay with you…...that has to be a testament to how broken you are right?

But, broken or not, you think you could live like this just fine. You’re not happy, you forever lost the chance to be when the taint of the world sunk into your skin, but Henry enjoys your company and you enjoy his and it’s enough to go through the motions during the day until you can escape into dreams where you reunite with your lost family who adore you as much as they ever did and you’re not  
broken.

But then you go to collect the mail one day and you see a letter from your father, addressed to Henry, and realize that sometimes the past finds it’s way back to the present.


	2. Inky Memories

It takes all your strength not to break the law and read someone elses mail. Usually you would never even  _ think  _ to do it, but after all these years, why would your father be contacting Henry of all people. Granted, you suppose, you never really knew much of the goings on in the studio so it’s possible they had a relationship deeper than merely employer and employee. Yet, the fact your father is choosing to track down an old employee of his rather than his own damn daughter, is enough to drudge up the myriad of issues you probably should have discussed at those state mandated councillor sessions instead of just insisting you wanted to go back to the studio.

But, what’s done is done, and apparently your father would rather seek out a former employee than his own daughter. You’d be lying to say it was a surprise. So you do the good girl and roommate thing and place his mail untampered with, normally you’d yell to let him know but forming words around the anxious lump in your throat was proving more impossible by the moment. Even after all these years, just the most basic reminder of those long forgotten days could send you careening so quickly over the carefully maintained course you’d made for your life and send you spiralling into….something you couldn’t describe.

You just knew….you needed to see papa and mama right now.

So, like the child you never ceased to be you fled back to your room, which most certainly did  _ not  _ look like what most people would imagine when they thought of a thirty something adults room. Really though, despite your little hoarding problem when it came to Bendy memorabilia, you didn’t think it was  _ bad _ . You just designed it as an escape for when the longing became too much, and the fluffy covers and pillows and old drawings weren’t  _ childish  _ but just means of enhancing the rooms purpose.

They say if you repeat the same lie enough you can even convince yourself of it.

Still, for once you would not let the dark recesses life had tainted into your mind stop you, you picked up the closest things you had connecting you to mama and papa (the dolls based on their cartoon forms) and you held them tight as you curled up on the bed with your face buried in their stomachs. Hell, laying down like this if you just closed your eyes, you could make believe you were at home. Could hear the gentle lilting of mamas voice off in the distance and the insistent stroke of papa’s hand as he knew you were awake despite your attempts to pretend otherwise. He’d get more and more insistant the longer you pretend, caging and trapping you under his body until you couldn’t breathe from the pressure….and the ink, but rather than being scared you were struggling to contain your laughter until he inevitable drew it out of you anyways.

Honestly, when it came to your real family, Bendy and Alice had been the best parents you ever had, you never quite understood how they came to be….you just found them one day and it only took them one look at you to see what all the other adults couldn’t. That you were a scared little babe without any real parent to mind her and they took you under their wing as if they had borne you.

You know Bendy had tried to ‘return’ you at first, scooping your tiny body up in his arms and demanding answers from your ‘real’ father, but if anything that just made the depths of his indifference to you all the more obvious and the more often you returned down to his home in the basement the longer it took for him to  _ ‘do tha right thing and take ya back’ _ . In the days preceding the fall of the studio you would stay with papa and mama for a week or more at a time and it’s the last time you could remember being genuinely happy.

But, in the end, they were cartoon characters. While you always told yourself you would go back one day, you knew the wounds and trauma and  _ taint  _ that life had left on you would be something they couldn’t accept, they would probably still try though and it would ruin your relationship because….despite everything…..surely they never really knew any real trials right? They seemed so happy all the time and you couldn’t imagine going back to them now with the darkness you held, at best it would taint them as well permanently, and at worst they would find themselves no longer able to love the person you had become.

Usually remembering the past like this, and why you could only move forwards and not back, would ground you and make you more sure of yourself. Yet, the more you remembered, the more you wanted to just slip on your shoes and race back through the cities and highways into papa’s arms. Maybe….maybe just for a visit, you could pretend time hadn’t changed you and come up with some excuse for your long absence just to be able to bury your face in papa’s chest one last time. He would be mad, as a front to how sad he was probably, but he would hold you and you could pretend everything was normal for a few days.

God, the more you entertained the idea, the more certain you felt as though this could ever end better than poorly.

But, before you could hype yourself up too much, light filtered into the room as Henry walked in and knelt down by your bedside like you were a child. His face looked tired but it still managed to be concerned about you despite all the other stresses he probably had even without whatever Dad had written him about.

**“Hey Darlin…..come out to the table and talk to me?”** his voice sent you into a round of hysterical sobbing, you hated it, just because they talked with the same damn accent shouldn’t do this to you. But that was one of the many reasons you were attached to him, Henry definitely had his own merits, but you’d be lying to say the initial attachment was anything but displaced affection.

**“Yeah, sorry, I thought I was over the past but….”** you tried to explain as you peeked over bendy’s head sheepishly like a small child but he just smiled and ruffled your hair like you  _ hadn’t  _ just bawled like a baby in front of him.

  
  
  


**“No worries sweetheart, that’s why I wanna talk to you, come out whenever you’re ready,”** and just as suddenly as he came he was gone leaving you to wipe at your tear stained face sheepishly before gathering your parents and heading to meet Henry out at the dinner table.

**“I didn’t know you and my dad were close,”** it was the only way you could think of to even begin the topic without just demanding he tell you exactly what your father was writing him about, for all you put him through on a daily and weekly basis he definitely deserved better than that, so awkward segues it was!

**“Your father…..he was not a good man, i’m under no illusions about that, but he was a genius and I wanted to learn from him. He never told me about you, and whenever I saw you back then you seemed to be happy, so I never knew anything was wrong,”** you smiled sympathetically because you had heard that same sentiment from alot of your dads former employees, when the studio had been shutting down they basically gave away all their merchandise to whoever would take them, so it was inevitable you would contact them, and you’d had the reply you gave to them all pretty much rehearsed.

**“It’s okay, the studio was my home, I had lots of friends there so dad’s neglect never bothered me…..only bad part is how much Bacon Soup I wound up eating over the years,”** It still felt strange not to tell people the truth, about your papa and mama, but no one but you and your Dad had known they existed and you worried sharing the secret might cause trouble…..so you told a version of the story that, while not a lie, left out just why you would miss the studio so much after all this time.

**“Well, if you want, you can go back now. Your father wants me to drop by his house for a talk and then we’re going over to the studio ourselves. I could drop you off beforehand and if you’re anything like you were back then we probably won’t see you for a week after the visit,”** Henry had no clue how painful his words were, how on any other day of your life you’d have screamed ‘ _ NO!’  _ and never looked back, but all the same you found yourself nodding as a broken sob tore through your throat. He reached across the table and took your trembling hands into his own and smiled that same patient smile.

**“C’mon then, no time to stand on ceremony, we’ll grab breakfast on the way and i’ll take you home toots,”**

_ Toots.  _ God, it had been years, and yet in that brief breathe Henry was no more and there was only Papa. One of these days you really wanted to tell him, about the demon he reminded you so much of, but for now you were struggling to stand and walk as Henry ushered you onto your feet and into the car.

At least, if this was all a horrible decision, you’d be making it together.


	3. Homecoming

The drive from Henry’s house to the studio felt like the longest of your life, it was legitemately a long drive as both you and Henry had ample reason to want to avoid the studio, but finally the car had come to a stop. You were home. You just….needed to open the car door and then the only thing stopping you from finding mama and papa was time. But even though the way forward was so simple your hands wouldn’t stop shaking as you stared out the window.

**“What if….”** you’d been playing scenarios over in your head, so many what if’s, and without even thinking you started listing them out loud. What if they hated you for leaving? What if they had forgotten you? What if they’d decided to take their chances outside the studio and weren’t there anymore? You had so many insecurities and much as Henry was supporting you there was no way you could tell him about what had you so uptight and insecure so you just cut off the rebellious words with a whimper as his hand rubbed at your back supportively.

**“It’s hard facing the past, i know, that’s why we’re gonna divide and conquer this together. Besides, knowing Joey, you’re gonna have plenty of time to explore the studio before he brings me here, and that’s without me delaying it even further,”** you laughed but there wasn’t much humor to it, you remembered occasionally hearing people complain that he talked too much, but he never talked to you at all if he could help it so you wouldn’t know. Still, even if he had no clue exactly why you were shaking, Henry’s support was touching and gave you the strength to pull the handle on the door and step outside.

**“Don’t wander off now missy, at least outside the studio, got it?”** you laughed for real this time and stuck your tongue out at him, someone else might fuss at being treated like a child despite being way past majority, but you knew that deep down you had stopped aging the last time you saw this studio...and you weren’t sure if that could ever change.

**“Just calmbor down into the depths of hell itself? Aight, I can do that, you’ll still never find me!”** Even just being here seemed to nudge back to life the fire which had once been your soul, bright and passionate and sassy, Henry noticed it too and smiled fondy even as the surprise was evident.

**“Good girl! I’ll see you…..when I see you,”** honestly you had almost forgot about your father in all the chaos but you nodded and stepped towards the studio doors, his memory was so minute amidst the whirl of more important ones now in your grasp, and despite everything, the closer you got to seeing your family the less hesitant you felt about it all and the more you just wanted to finally see them after all this time.

You were vaguely aware of Henry driving away as you pushed down on the handle and the studio door opened without resistance, briefly you wondered why it was unlocked but….maybe your dad knew more than Henry had let on. It didn’t make up for everything, but maybe just maybe, your father had become less of a turd over the years.

Doubtful but possible.

The first thing that hit you, upon closing the door and taking in the old dilapidated studio, was just how  _ silent  _ the place was. Usually the ink machine that had given life to your family would be humming away steadily in the background, you couldn’t think without that beat, and more importantly you worried if your family would be okay without it. It was the very device that had created them, even if my father had never explained the details, and part of you worried if they didn’t need it to continue existing.

**“Papa, Mama, Uncle Boris….i’m home!”** you cupped your hands around your mouth and called out the same words that used to be tradition and fought back the sobs memories brought to you as you strained your ears to desperately listen for the sounds of running feet, soup cans being knocked over, or even just one of them calling back….but all you were met with was silence that only intensified the fear in your heart. You had just been a kid when you were here before, if they needed the ink machine, you didn’t know how to turn it back on and help them! But, as heartless as your father was, surely he wouldn’t do something that would  _ kill  _ them right? After all, he’d still kept the studio all these years, and that was so they would have a home right?

You were crying like a baby now, but you tried to keep your sobs to quiet hiccups as you strained to hear anything that might lead you to your family, but despite your fears the familiar sights of drawing boards and the scent of ink was perhaps the clearest grounding reminder that you were home. It normally would have soothed you completely, but until you saw them, or any of the inky creatures that called this place home you couldn’t breathe easy.

Finding the ink machine itself was easy, and confirmed your fears that it was turned off, but it didn’t seem damaged or anything so….maybe Father only used it to create  _ more  _ creatures rather than sustain them? Honestly you were beginning to regret not having asked him more questions.

But more importantly than the machine not running, who had boarded up the entryway to the ink machine room, and why had they done it? You’d opted to move closer and hoped the boards were old enough to tear down...but almost as soon as you did it was made clear you weren’t alone as a familiar face, though nearly covered with ink, popped up on the other side to glare at you.

_ Papa….Bendy! _

You never knew a human was capable of being terrified and relieved all at once, but you were, even as you yelped and fell back onto the floor that was rapidly getting covered in ink. It wasn’t just the floor either it was like ink was flooding from everywhere all at once but all you could think of was the face you’d just seen  _ swatting  _ at you like you were a threat!

**“Papa! It’s okay, it’s me, i’m not hear to hurt anything!”** you called out as you scrambled up from the ink stained floor and stood up on your toes to try and peer through…..and just like before that inky form was peering right back at you.

You know your memory as a child, not even ten years old, was anything but reliable. Yet, even so, you were positive you had never seen Bendy like this in all your life. Haunched over and angry and spilling ink with every step as he moved towards the door to, you assume, swat at you again. But you were prepared this time and when he did you grabbed his arm, he tried to yank it back but you held on tight even as your body collided painfully with the wood which held sturdy, but those bruises and blisters would just have to be part of your growing collection you decided. Bendy kept struggling but, cartoon or not, he couldn’t just shed the arm you had in a vice grip as you hoisted yourself up to peer through the opening and placed his hand upon your cheek.

**“Papa, it’s me, I'm not here to hurt anything I promise,”** the words came out far too soft, a whimper really, as opposed to the reassuring tone you had wanted to take but he seemed to hear you. Even though the ink covered his eyes, you knew he heard you when his everpresent grin slackened, and then his thumb gently stroked across your cheek a few times. You tried to bite back the sob, you really did, but even just the smallest gesture of affection brought all that pain and loneliness you’d been trying to hide for so long bubbling to the surface. His grip on you tightened for a moment in response, large fingers splaying out against your head in what you felt was meant to be a soothing gesture, before he shoved you without another word ad when you got up this time to look he was just….gone. 

You wanted to cry out, to beg for forgiveness, but when you fell this time the ink swallowed you whole and it took a moment to struggle to your feet. You didn’t have time to be sorry you needed to get to another floor where, hopefully, the ink wasn’t nearly as strong. It felt like the ink itself was guiding you along the right path, except if you followed the flow it was leading to the exit door, you weren’t an idiot and could guess why but instead you turned and headed for the stairwell. The ink seemed to thicken around your legs, confirming a theory you’d had since childhood that Bendy was able to control the ink somehow, but you fought it with the sae iron will that had kept you alive all these years and once you yanked the stairwell door open and slammed it shut you found yourself with at least a few moments to breathe.

_ On the plus side Papa doesn’t seem to need the ink machine on to function so odds were the rest of your family was fine. _

But the relief of knowing your family was safe still managed to be outweighed by the grief at Bendy’s clear rejection of you. You knew it was possible, if not likely, that he wouldn’t want you back after you had disappeared for so long. Still, the reality of it being true, crushed you in a way your entire life since leaving the studio never had. So, miserable and covered in ink, you sunk to the floor and wept as the reality that you would likely never have a true family again sunk into your bones.


	4. Demons Never Die

When the tears finally end, due to dehydration rather than an actual end to your grief, your throat is raw and your limbs heavy with dried ink. Standing, at first, seems impossible and you wonder if Bendy has opted to merely crust you in place if he can’t make you leave. This isn’t the first time you’ve been firmly held in a stiff and dark place though, you still remember that couple….the first one you were left with once it was decided you must be completely removed from being able to visit the studio, how they had surrounded you with pillows so thick you were suffocating and begged you to ‘choose to be born’ or something like that, in the end you followed their instructions if only to survive long enough to tell your ‘agent’ as the woman liked to call herself.

Your current predicament was no different, and for all his anger, Bendy did not seem to be trying to  _ kill  _ you. So you shifted and pushed against the makeshift cocoon the ink had formed around your curled up frame until finally you were able to stand, limbs still heavy and your body still absolutely  _ caked  _ in ink but you were able to start journeying down the steps one at a time. Bendy had made his feelings for you clear but you wanted to at least check on the rest of your family...make sure they were coping alright.

Walking down into the music department would have made you cry all over again, if there was moisture anywhere in your body left to be ejected, as it was your breath just started hitching as a lump grew in your throat. There were instruments littered and abandoned in some of the chairs, you didn’t know how to play most of them though, only the Banjo. You’d spend hours down here, bendy would sit on a chair with you in his lap and try to help you learn how to play, the lessons paid off enough that you still knew how to play after all these years….you just couldn’t find the time anymore. You had so few possessions in the system, and the father you were taken from the studio the more painful it was to do anything that reminded you of home, at least until the day you decided you were never returning and then you clung to what little you could.

God, if the  _ music  _ department was getting you this emotional, you were afraid how you would face the stronger memories that inevitably waited for you in the depths of the studio. Honestly, it was rare for you and your family to come this high up, you made your home in the depths where the workers were far less likely to stumble across any of you. Still, Mama and Uncle Borris had to be around here somewhere, and you were gonna find them! Thankfully the ink flood bendy had caused upstairs hadn’t dripped down much to this level, there were puddles here and there, but you weren’t worried about having to flee further down until you were ready.

Or at least, you thought that would be the case, until things started emerging from the puddles.

**“Hello mister searcher, long time no see, give papa my best okay?”** you spoke and winced at the raspiness of your voice. The creature was silent, and you were too busy rubbing your sore throat, but you looked up when you heard the gentle thud of something falling against the wood.

A can of bacon soup and even a can opener.

It was such a small gesture, almost a basic human decency you would wager, but the knot in your throat threatened to strangle you as you quickly stepped around the offering of food and held the vaguely humanoid blob in your embrace. It patted you once or twice on the head and then slowly dissolved into the floor, of course now you were soaked with ink all over again, but you were far too distracted with the kindness and the prospect of hydration and food to really be bothered.

Even after all these years moving while still eating bacon soup came naturally to you as you practically lived off the stuff as a child/ Your exploration of the floor continued while you soothed your poor throat with the soup, hydration would be far better of course, but you weren’t in a position to be picky. But then your wandering took you to corners of the music department you’d never been, mostly because it's where the composer worked and you remembered him being….temperamental.

Yet even knowing that the man was strange could not have prepared you for the sight that met your eyes as you entered the dim halls. You had seen the pentagrams throughout the building so far, creepy but not traumatizing or anything, but here it was more obvious that the strange sigils were meant as worship...to Bendy of all people. All through the dim halls you found cardboard cutouts of papa in front of those pentagrams with mad scrawls about someone, you assumed bendy, setting whoever wrote them free.

For a moment you wondered if, maybe, papa had been trying to protect you by kicking you out.

With a resolute shake of your head you filed that thought away for later. As for now, Bendy was doing fine and alive, you needed to check on the rest of your family before you went backtracking to try and sort things out with him. Sure, Mama and Uncle Boris always teased you about being a papa’s girl but you were genuinely worried about their safety….this place was a  _ mess….. _ and that was  _ before  _ you’d seen the weird bendy worship.

They…..surely whoever was behind all this worship wasn’t hurting the other toons right? You admit it was just a crazy thought, the sort only the anxious can ever claim to have with regularity, but it had never occurred to you until now that you had only seen bendy and the searchers...no Alice or Boris and that was  _ really  _ starting to bug you.

Picking up your steps in a rush now you came to the room where the musical director used to ‘make his magic’. There was a room beyond here only he could get to, papa had mentioned it to you in passing, the way further into the building was beyond there but papa would just take you around using the ink….because back then the plumbing still worked and you could shower off before it crusted around you like it was doing now.

  
  
  
  


But for all intents and purposes you were at a dead end and with your new theory making you anxious this only caused your adrenaline to speed up as you slammed your fist on the door as if somehow it would out. Normally, logic would dictate you move around and investigate for clues, but you were dealing with a full scale panic attack now and logic was about the furthest thing from your mind as instead you stormed over to the nearest ink puddle and slammed your hand into it like it might absorb you.

Of course, you knew deep down, the reason the puddle had absorbed you as a child was because you were always with papa or mama. But papa didn’t seem to want you around anymore and you had reason to fear that mama might not even be around anymore and God only knows about Uncle Boris.

Then you felt the chill of more wet ink seeping into your back and your head jerked up to see a(nother?) searcher patting your back, and while it was impossible to tell what emotion it was displaying, you pointed to the door that would lead further down into the studio before speaking hesitantly. You honestly weren’t sure if these things could understand regular speech or not, they had heard your tone obviously, but considering they didn’t speak themselves you wondered if you sounded foreign to them.

**“I need to get further into the studio but the door won’t open,”** you explained carefully and without a word the creature took your hand and tugged you onto your feet before pointing at….the banjo? The creature wasn’t pointing to any specific sheet music so you supposed you were just supposed to….play it?

If nothing else the strangeness of this whole interaction had, however temporarily, distracted you from that panic attack. So you hesitantly stepped over and picked up the banjo, strumming the chords a few times did nothing so clearly you needed to  _ play  _ something, which with this being the music department made sense at least. So you strummed a few more times, trying to think of a song you knew that could be played on the banjo, and as always with this place it never took long for the memory to find you.

_ Let me sing a lullaby _

_ As you close your eyes _

_ And as you're drifting off to sleep _

_ How I hope that the dreams that you find _

_ Are bright _

_ Love, can we meet again soon in the bluest of skies? _

_ Where a tomorrow waits for you and I _

_ So hold me tight one more time, but don't kiss me goodbye _

_ 'Cause I know that I'll see you on the other side _

_ I will think of our song when the nights are too long _

_ I'll dream of you for that's where I belong _

_ Love, can we meet again soon in the bluest of skies _

_ Only, in my dreams, do we meet again _

A lullaby, papa would play while your mama sang it, you used to sing it yourself so you could sleep for years after you left the studio. Eventually you stopped singing it because the pain in knowing it would never be sung to you by your parents again outweighed the comfort it usually granted you. Yet, when you sang it this time in the stomping grounds of your youth, you felt more whole than you had in a long time….and you vowed you’d never let the memory fade again.

The time you’d spent wasn’t wasted either as no sooner had you finished strumming the last lines of the song then the mechanical door in the corner began to rise up and you smiled. Turning you saw the searcher lingering to watch you play, you smiled and went over to kiss it on the cheek (ink tasted foul, yes, but a lifetime of kissing your toon family had built you something of a tolerance to the sensation), before hugging it one last time.

**“Thank you mister searcher, if you want, you can tell Papa what happened,”** you knew they all reported back to him anyways, and until now, you weren’t even aware they had a will of their own like this….so you didn’t want him to feel bad when he inevitably was forced to report what he’d seen.

_ Besides, what was Bendy gonna do, throw a temper tantrum and flood another floor? _

You rolled your eyes and just made your way down the stairs, the studio’s depths called, and you needed to find the rest of your family. A fact you were reminded of again as you eyed the giant ass bendy head poster on the farther wall of the stairs.

Like, you thought pops was pretty great, but whoever lived here might be taking it a wee bit too far. Still, whatever, you just needed to keep moving forward and find your family so they can tell you why the studio has descended into such a complete shitshow. But before you could get more than five steps you felt every hair on your body stand on end as your muscles reflexively tightened. You knew this feeling and it caused the bottom of your stomach to drop out as a fresh sweat broke out and rather than fight back you just habitually squeezed your eyes shut and waited.

You weren’t surprised by the impact, you had known it was coming, you fell to the floor just on the edge of falling unconscious and saw…..not papa but someone who looked very much like him leaning over you.

_ “Rest your head it’s time for bed” _

You had….many questions but the darkness claimed you before you could even think of what they were.


	5. Suffocation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to a comment by my beta reader i decided to include a flashback that includes some (in my oppinion) unsettling child abuse. If that sort of stuff bothers you just skip the block of italicised text at the top of the chapter. Take care and be safe everyone <3
> 
> Also, no, I totally didn't cry like a baby writing this chapter. Dunno what you're talking about!

_ It’s so dark and I can’t see anything. They put me down here, stacked pillows around me, and say I have to be born again. I don’t want to be reborn I want my real mama and papa. I want to get out of this damn pillowfort before I suffocate. They keep telling me I have to ‘be born’ and the physical pressure from the outside is getting worse. I never should have left home, I should have just begged them to hide me where no one would find me so I could stay with them. _

_ The next round of ‘contractions’ I swear nearly breaks my neck. If I don’t move I'm going to die. Yet, I worry that moving means they win, that I'm giving in to their ridiculous form of abuse. I don’t want to give in I want to go  _ **_home._ **

_ But, in the end, I know the only way i’ll ever get home is if I survive. So even though my body feels too sore to move when the pressure outside changes again I move with it and am ‘reborn’. They’re thrilled, I'm apathetic, I've made up my mind to stop trying. One way or the other I  _ **_will_ ** _ return to my real family but until then I have to endure every abuse and torture, because this world sucks, but this too will pass and then I can go home. _

_ And immediately tattle on all their asses! _

Consciousness is a slow thing, thankfully it’s not well lit down here, You just blink until you adjust and slowly are able to see what little there is to see. The man in the bendy mask looms over you covered head to toe in ink. He looks alot like the searchers actually just...more solid and actually able to speak.

**“You’re not a searcher….what are you?”** you’re not really sure how one starts a conversation with someone when they wake up bound to a chair, which explains the old nightmare you just had, so you just skip any formalities and get right to the obvious as you look up at him.

**“The little lost sheep knows a thing or two, i’m impressed, I knew you were different the moment I saw you interacting with my coworkers,”** he sounded...pleased with himself even though you weren’t sure why and he was leaning  _ way  _ too close for your comfort, but you suppose, kidnapees didn’t get comfort zones.

**“Coworkers? What do you mean? I thought the searchers served pa-bendy,”** for some reason you find yourself not revealing your connection to Bendy this time, even though it might save you, if this guy worships bendy like it seems he might deem your attachment ‘Blasphemy’.

**“Something cannot be made from nothing little sheep. The searchers are just humans ran through the ink machine and bound to an overlord,,”** it’s like a punch to the goddamn throat. Bendy introduced you to the searchers so long ago, told you that they would look out for you when he couldn’t, and since you had already met so many other ink creatures you didn’t even question it.

**“If the searchers are mindless then what are you? Do you have a face under there?”** the question feels a bit rude, but honestly, he’s just shattering every illusion you’ve ever had about your childhood so you feel like you’re past civility.

**“I am** **_ascended._ ** **I am his chosen prophet who sacrifices to appease the beast so he will finally free us from this prison!”** you don’t need to ask who the beast is, you already know, but you find myself with….not stockholm syndrome but definitely sympathy for this man before you. The other searchers, they have personalities but don’t seem self aware, yet he obviously is. You can’t even imagine what it must be like to lose your entire body and remain aware of what you’ve lost. Nor can you believe the silly goops you used to sing for and play tag with are actually human abominations.

You don’t say anything in response to his ramblings, you can’t, your throat feels too tight. You thought It was hard to breathe in the dream but this is even worse. Did Bendy know all this time about the searchers? Did he help  _ create  _ them!?

The masked man grows bored with the silence and proceeds to begin the….sacrifice you suppose. You should be scared, but, if he’s truly sacrificing you to Bendy why  _ would  _ you be afraid? Papa had his chance to kill you and chose not to do it so why would he do it now?

_ Then again maybe you don’t know papa as well as you thought. _

The speakers crackle, he speaks more of that sheep nursery rhyme from when he knocked you out before, the bindings are tight and moving them just reddens your wrists. All you can really do is look up and ahead toward the mechanical door that, you assume, something is about to come out of.

**“Hear me Bendy, arise from the darkness, arise and claim my offering!”** you’re starting to think, that maybe, you ought to have told him about your relationship with Bendy. Even if papa is mad at you, even if he’s  _ interested  _ in getting a sacrifice, there’s no way he’d accept someone he considers a daughter!

….right?

**“Free me! I beg you!”** Yet again, despite the circumstances, you find yourself feeling bad for the poor man. If you live through this you’ll look into what you’ve learned, see if there’s a way to reverse it, you of all people know what desperation can do to a person.

**“I summon you ink demon! Show your face and take this tender sheep!”** You’re about to roll your eyes at how long this is taking, as if you’re not slowly working yourself up into a frenzy wondering if your father figure will eat you, when you hear a crash nearby and jerk your head over to see Bendy has bust down the door to the prophets room looking  _ unhappy _ .

  
  


**“Papa stop! Leave him alone! Please!”** The words are out before you can think on them, defending the man who would have you sacrificed, perhaps all those years of abuse took a bigger toll on you than you thought. 

But it works, Bendy looks away from the man and your eyes lock, it’s a bit awkward of an angle for you but you don’t  _ dare  _ risk looking away for something as silly as comfort! Then, without so much as a sound, he turns from the man and stomps his way over to you. From this angle, as opposed to peering at him over wooden beams, you can see how his body has deteriorated. All the familiar features are almost entirely covered in ink and some of his limbs have….almost dissolved it looks like.

**“Papa….what….are you okay?”** you should be angry, yelling at him, you’ve learned terrible truths today! But he’s hurt, and a mess, and the only father you’ve ever known and it hurts to see him like this. He doesn’t say a word in response but he takes the back of the chair in his good hand and with a flex of his wrist it’s crumbling to pieces and you can stand once more.

_ Was he….was he always able to do that!? _

As soon as you’re free the good hand brings you close and runs across your body and down your hair, it’s sweet and familiar, a wordless way to check on you. Despite everything you smile and lean your head on his chest as his frantic hand slowly starts stroking at your back, that’s familiar too, and if you closed your eyes you could probably convince yourself the last three decades had been nothing more than a terrible nightmare.

**“I’m okay papa, really, he’s just scared,”** you murmur, and though you meant to reassure him that seems to have the opposite effect, as suddenly he’s got his hand on your back and you’re being marched out of the room like a naughty child or something! You already know what’s going to happen before it does so you’re not surprised at all when he stops you in front of the steps. He points up with his gimpy arm and gives you a gentle shove for good measure but you force yourself to stumble and brace yourself on the wall so you can face him.

**“NO! I am not leaving! Look at you, look at the studio, you can’t expect me to just….** **_walk away_ ** **and leave you an’ the others like this!”** you snap as you look up at him, his smile is slackened again and you swear you can see his eyes narrowing behind the ink, that is never a good sign for you.

**“Ya DiD it befOrE AND You cAn do iT AgAIn,”** he was speaking now, but really, you’d wished he’d just kept up with the silent treatment. There was a lot to digest in that sentence, his pronunciation and tone was all over the place...but you barely noticed any of that as  _ what  _ he said slapped you in the face.

  
  
  


**“That….that’s not fair! I didn’t** **_want_ ** **to go!** **_YOU_ ** **let them take me ‘pops’!”** you knew he might be angry, it was only fair, but he wouldn’t even hear you out and instead just threw your mistakes in your face. It hurt, it hurt so much, and as much as you swore not to do it you felt the heat and wetness of tears gather in your eyes as you looked away so he wouldn’t see.

_ Like a stubborn child. _

**“DO yA THink I Was bOrn yESTERdaY? You've bEeN gONe thIRTy YEarS. Don't COME BAck aN’ aCT LikE yA carE ABOuT us noW!”** You broke. You didn’t want him to see you cry, not when he obviously didn’t care about you, but he couldn’t be more wrong about things if he tried. You’d never stopped caring about him and the others for a single second, but you knew if they found out how broken you were they’d hate you anyways, yet the fact he was  _ so  _ wrong just made it hurt worse.

**“It’s okay, I don’t mind if you hate me, I hate myself,”** you felt the creature tense above you and dared to glance up. The everpresent melting had gotten worse, his grin had flipped right around, and he looked like he was shaking beneath all the ink but you didn’t bother looking close enough to tell. You two just stayed like that, staring at each other, until suddenly he started breathing much harder and his shaking worsened as he stumbled away and glared at you.

**“I Mean iT! GIT!”** he snapped and then in the blink of an eye he was gone. Suddenly the wall was not enough anymore and you slid down to the floor….which was covered in ink again. But suddenly ink was no longer so soothing to you, the ink encasing your body felt more like the curse the prophet described it as and the smell made you wanna wretch.

But it’s hard to vomit when you’re struggling to get air between gasping sobs and the tightness in your chest. Suffocating. You were suffocating. But there was no light this time, no end to your suffering, because your father (and very likely the rest of your family) hated you anyways.

The room starts spinning, you can’t breathe, and the last thought that crosses your mind as black spots start filling your vision, is that you’d prefer being back in the ‘womb’ to this!


	6. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for some vague anorexia mentions descriptions towards the end, sorry folks! I uh, I don't have any easy way for you to identify but just start skipping once MC gets undressed, again sorry pls take care! <3

_ You were stuck between a rock and a hard place. The day had been good, you had been goofing around with Bendy and having fun, even if he wasn’t playing with you in return this was an old game you two had so you thought he was still enjoying it. But then when you snuck up on him to playfully tug on his tail for attention he rounded on you and took your wrist in a stern grip. _

**_“Enough toots! I’m not up to playin games with ya right now,”_ ** _ it was the gentlest of gentle scoldings, more of a loving warning really, Bendy didn’t even look that mad just….tired. Yet, in your young and impressionable mind, this was the start of him becoming like father. He was gonna get tired of you, he wasn’t going to want you around, and you’d be all alone again like before he’d found you. _

_ You hadn’t meant to start crying but it seemed like the only response you could muster to adversity. _

**_“Oh for crying out-! Darlin seriously! You can’t just cry your way out of it every time I tell you no!”_ ** _ He snapped, he was angry now, and that just made it worse. He was getting annoyed with you like father had too and everything you said only seemed to make it worse! You knew deep down you should tell him why you were crying, that’s what Alice would say, but as you dared to peek up at that face that only seemed to get angrier with you your throat closed up in anxiety.  _

**_“I’m fine!”_ ** _ you snapped, more harshly than you really meant to, before you turned and ran off into the studio. You chose the cramped and narrow paths where he couldn’t follow and headed up towards the top floors where he wasn’t allowed to go. It was a passive aggressive power play on your part, usually you stayed where he could find you, but if he was gonna be a buttface you’d go be with someone else then! _

_ You weren’t really paying attention where you walked, just marching off and sniveling back tears, no one minded you as it was a pretty common site to see you scrabbling back and forth across the studio. They never said anything about your crying but would usually pat your head or give you a snack. _

_ Today...not so much. Wherever you go you get chased off. Sometimes they’re kinder with a soft ‘Sorry kiddo busy right now’ but most of them are short, clipped, and snappish at you. You really tried too! It feels like you’ve visited every human in the building except….except for Father. That’s the door you’re at now, scuffling your feet, wondering if you’re so desperate for attention you’ll risk almost certain defeat for it. _

**_“....Daddy?”_ ** _ you speak hesitantly as you waddle your way into his office, taking care to shut the door behind you even, before making your way over to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you beyond a grunt but you are undeterred as you perch your chin on his knee and will him to give you attention with your eyes. This isn’t your preferred method, you’re a more physical sort, but you know being physical just annoys daddy. _

_ Just like, inevitably, it ended up annoying Bendy. _

**_“Daddy love me,”_ ** _ you repeat as you continue to bore your eyes up into him, predictably, he sighs and looks down at you unamused. _

**_“Hun, Daddy is busy, go….play in the vents or whatever it is you do while I work,”_ ** _ he murmurs tiredly as he stands and ‘escorts’, more like drags, you out of his office. But before he shuts the door he sees something that makes him pause. _

**_“You! Bendy, get back downstairs, before you scare somebody!”_ ** _ you had been looking resolutely at the ground, sulking in your umpteenth failure to get attention, but the mention of Bendy causes your head to jerk up and a traitorous jolt of excitement to light up your spine that you immediately try to remind Bendy is being a buttface. _

_ Bendy, for his part, just ignores dad and looks down at you. You think he might be concerned because his grin is slackened but you’re really no more eager to deal with him than you are with your father and instinctively hide behind dad’s leg...which gets a light smack on the bum to jolt you forward before he slams the door on him. _

_ Why does everyone in your life hate you so much? _

_ You just start crying again and sink down into the floor in hopes it will absorb you like it does the others, it does not, but after a moment or two you feel a familiar hand running through your hair. Finally your emotions respond the way you want them to, angrily, and you slap his hand away as you look up to glare at him. _

**_“Go away, I already get it, you don’t want me around,”_ ** _ you refused to look at him this time, you didn’t want to see the pity in his face, it was the same look you got from everyone everywhere you went. They all felt  _ bad  _ for you rather than actually liking you, Bendy had always been different and seemed to like you, but now that was obviously ruined. _

**_“Does he do that to you often?”_ ** _ his voice is quiet, but you don’t think it’s due to being overheard, and when he forces your head up to look at him his smile is slack like when he’s upset. _

**_“Why should I tell you? I don’t want your pity! That’s all everyone does and i’m sick of it!”_ ** _ you try to shove him but it doesn’t work, it hadn’t occurred to you until now, but he was probably always letting you shove him around.  _

**_“Because, if I find out he’s smacking ya around alot, i’ve half a mind to take you down into the studio and never let you back up,”_ ** _ you’ve dreamed of hearing things like this, that someone would want to save you, it almost makes you want to believe in Bendy again. _

**_“Why I thought you were sick of me?”_ ** _ The question is rhetorical, maybe a little petulant, but the anger is spent as you hug your knees to your chest defensively. Things are silent for a sec before the sound of ink splatting on the floor sounds and you look up just in time to have your face smooshed into an inky chest while a hand runs through your hair soothingly. _

**_“I’ve never been sick of ya toots, don’t be silly, I love you,”_ ** _ you hate how much you cry why is it your default response to everything!? But all you can do is cry into his chest and let Bendy pull you into his lap and shoosh you. You don’t even flinch when the door slams open, you know dad is angry about the noise, but you’re too busy being relieved that Bendy still cares to give a damn. _

**_“Oh for crying out loud, get downstairs before I dump water on you bendy, and take the noise away so I can actually work,”_ ** _ you flinch instinctively into Bendy when you hear your fathers angry voice, but he just curls you up against his chest and lifts you up while you walk away from your glowering father. _

**_“I’m sorry you have a man like that for a father toots,”_ ** _ he murmurs as he rubs your back soothingly, but for once you don’t mind your dad as you watch him fade away from you, while you’re taken someplace safe. _

**_“Nah, it’s okay, I don’t need him. I have you Papa,”_ ** _ He freezes like he’s been struck and looks down at you, but for once, you don’t worry he’s upset as you lean up and kiss his cheek. _

_ Then promptly gag from the taste of the ink on your lips, but this breaks the spell as he laughs and pats your back, and the two of you head towards the lower levels. _

**_“Love ya too Toots, papa’s always gonna be here for ya,”_ **

Your first clue something is wrong is when you awake on dry ground, there’s no ink and the room is actually well lit, oh and also you’re in a jail cell. That….really doesn’t scare you as much as it should, you’re too busy being confused, because surely the prophet isn’t gonna try and sacrifice you  _ again _ right? Like if you hadn’t called off Bendy he’d be dead!

Oh man you have a  _ cot  _ okay probably not being sacrificed!

Cautiously stepping up to the bars of the cell you peer out and you think you see a leg, feminine, so definitely not the prophet. Okay, good, unless the prophet has a wife in which case not so good! Still no point in delaying the revelation for fear, the end will come, and apparently your family hates you anyways so nothing is lost.

  
  
  
  


**“Uh hello, yes, I see your leg over there. Are you the prophet's wife? Cuz like, the last time i was sacrificed to bendy didn’t go so well, so i’d strongly caution you against it,”** you call out even though the mere mention of bendy makes your stomach twist, the fact your mind decided to torture you with better times does not help you cope with your recent encounter, but soon it’s freaking out for an entirely different reason.

Because in a moment or two you’re staring down Mama and Uncle Borris!

**“Sacrificed? No, we found you at our door, how did you even get down here!?”** Mama doesn’t seem to recognize you, which is disheartening since even  _ bendy  _ did but…..wait!

**“Mama, it’s me, I came here looking for you and Uncle Borris,”** you explain and unlike bendy you can see the shifts in her expression, the look she exchanges with Uncle Borris before she leaves and returns with a towel causing you to wonder just  _ how  _ covered in ink you must be.

**“Can you…..wipe it off?”** she asks as if searching for the right words, and then it hits you, she thinks you’re a searcher did your face get covered while you slept!? All you knew right now was Joey Drew Studios needed more damn mirrors! Still you obediently raise the towel to your face and are taken aback by how much ink comes off so you start scrubbing. A minute or two of scrubbing later, and right before you start panicking, you finally hit skin and pull away the pretty much useless towel to look up at her hesitantly.

**“I don’t suppose….you have a shower?”** you ask and when your eyes meet mom’s she stares for a minute before marching over to Uncle Borris who pats around a minute before giving her a set of keys that she uses to unlock the cell door you’re trapped behind.

**“Oh my god….”** her voice is so quiet, disbelieving, and all you can hear is papa’s voice in your head.

“ **_Don't COME BAck aN’ aCT LikE yA carE ABOuT us noW!”_ **

**“I’m sorry,”** you bite your lip and look away to keep from crying for the umpteenth time today but you’re just embraced like you were in your dream as a hand runs through your hair and you can’t stop the tears.  **“I don’t get it, papa said you hated me, was he lying?”** you know this  _ really  _ isn’t the time for questions but if your mom is so happy to see you why would Bendy say that?

**“What….what do you mean Bendy** **_told_ ** **you?”** you’ve gone and ran your mouth again and said something bad, because she pulls away and tilts your chin to look at her as if you’re still just a little girl, but she doesn’t look angry….yet.

**“The prophet guy, he tried to sacrifice me to bendy, which as you can imagine papa didn’t appreciate,”** here you stop to giggle, because really, the irony  _ is  _ pretty potent there  **“Papa did attack the man, but I called for him, and he freed me and we talked for a bit,”** it’s now you remember that your hands  _ were  _ bound but that no longer seems to be the case, add to the whole ‘mystery of how you even got here’ you guess.

**“Lets….let’s get you into the shower hun,”** She’s unsettled and you can tell, but her hand on your back is firm, and you know better than to argue. She walks you into another room where Uncle Borris has jerry rigged a shower with a soupcan and the plumbing it’s….actually kind of clever!

**“Thank you Boris, now out with you, and let’s see if we can still salvage those clothes sweetheart,”** Normally you wouldn’t have much, if any, reservation about stripping in front of mom. But that was before you left, before your body was warped by the world in ways she  _ will  _ notice, so instead you shake your head and cross your arms over your chest.

**“No, it’s okay, I can just wash myself and the clothes at the same time!”** you try to insist, hoping to whatever deity is out there you sound less panicked than you feel, but given mom’s face you’re not fooling anyone.

**“Hun, you’ll just get sick that way, i’ve seen it all before, don’t worry,”** she means well, you can’t hate her, but as she peels your arms away and starts removing your clothes you wonder what she’s seeing first that causes her face to go from mildly amused to quiet horror. The fact your clothes only look normal because you tie them up with string? The fact your ribs can be felt through the skin? The bruises and scars? 

You were doing so well at not letting them see how broken you were too.

**“I’m sorry,”** it feels pathetic, because apologies don’t change the fact you’re broken, but she looks miserable as her eyes meet yours and you feel responsible.

**“Why are you apologising? Who did this to you!?”** she almost looks angry, rage wasn’t an emotion you expected, disgust or noncomprehension was more what you had prepared for so now your rehearsed lines start stumbling.

**“I….I did? I mean, I stopped eating…..and then they started hitting me for not eating,”** that doesn’t even cover a sixteenth of what happened, not nearly, but her reaction has you so off balance you can’t think straight. Then she calls Uncle Borris in and hugs you so tight as she frets over injuries that have long since stopped hurting as your Uncle looks at you similarly to mama.

That’s when you realize…..you didn’t need to stay away all those years after all.


End file.
